


Goodnight, Goodnight

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/Rick fics [19]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Carl Grimes is dead, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Heartbreak, Implied Sexual Content, Infatuated Besotted Negan, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, One-Sided Attraction, Pansexual Negan (Walking Dead), for the Comics at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Negan wants to prove himself to Rick – but he’s too late.





	Goodnight, Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Heartbreak prompt for Regan Week. I briefly mentioned this to @hatterized because since we know Rick is exiting this season, I have to join the crowd doing their Negan goodbyes (like @ocegion did!)

When Rick first came to Negan for advice about the dead talking, Negan was ready to be released. He was Rick’s killer guard dog, his dragon in the cell, a Jabberwocky, what-ever-the-fuck from those books he had read when he was little and stuck at Mimi’s when Mom was at work and since Mimi couldn’t afford a cable bill and have a functioning TV. Negan knew there had to be a bigger reason for Rick keeping him in the cell.

It couldn’t just be for Carl’s memory – Negan knew that he was too much of a son-of-a-bitch to be forgiven for the killings so easily like that – and Negan so much wanted to believe that Rick kept him alive because he felt something. Out there under the oak tree with the stained-glass glittering in the sunshine behind Rick, and even though they were sweating with fear and exertion it was cool with approaching autumn (the leaves, gold and red and orange like fireplaces, he’d always loved autumn with football games and pumpkin carving and Halloween and scary movies), he so badly just – only wanted to hurt Rick. Rick Grimes had been a humongous pain in the ass in the worst way, but Negan liked him, openly admired him. He was tenacious and loyal, but also stubborn and maybe a little stupid. Only a little. Negan could show him the way. And then Rick started crying and he mentioned his kid and Negan felt so bad, so horrible about a kid like Carl who could’ve been one of the boys in his garage he played ping-pong with and who ate Lucille’s cookies dying for no damn good reason at – Negan lowered Lucille. And Rick Grimes, who batted those eyelashes, his blue eyes sparkling with tears like diamonds, a quaver in his southern drawl, slit his throat.

For two years – that’s what the boy had said, two whole fucking years – Negan was locked away with only Rick and a handful of other guards for company. There was the samurai Michonne, who was obviously attached to Rick and therefore not very friendly to Negan for flirting with her boyfriend. There was the pretty twink doctor Siddiq who disappeared except for the occasional check up after his throat was healed up. Jadis, Aaron, Gabey, a few others for the bath times. No one really talked to him, though, but Rick. Sure, Gabriel tried to save his soul and brought him a Bible once, and Michonne sometimes took the time to answer his questions about how the weather was or if the Sanctuary was doing well, but Rick really talked to him.

Rick talked to him about Carl, about his life from before, and Negan may have shared a few things, too, like being a coach and Lucille, though he never named her. When Negan asked Michonne about Lucille, what they did with his precious bat, she never answered, but when Negan finally asked Rick, Rick admitted that she was at his house, in his closet. Negan was a little annoyed at Lucille being disrespected that way, but he figured it was better for her to be a in a cell of her own than to be used by someone who doesn’t appreciate her and love her like he does.

Surprisingly, they talked about Michonne a lot. Rick really loved her, and she obviously adored him, even after all this time and even after losing Carl. Negan shouldn’t be that surprise, though. She was a pillar of support, helping Rick lead, by his side and a mother to his daughter, and someone that could take over when Rick was busy, like the one winter he caught pneumonia or on the days where Rick was at his lowest and slept on Carl’s grave or came and talked to Negan for hours.

All Negan could offer him in return were blowjobs at first, or hand jobs or a dirty prison fuck or anything. Every time, Rick just turned him down. Now here lately, Negan felt like he could offer Rick other things, too. Advice, one leader to another. An example of what not to become. And…and maybe…maybe love. Maybe.

Well, that was a lie. Definitely.

After Judith crept down to visit him in his cell, bringing a picture she drew at school of her, Michonne, Rick, and her kitty she found, Negan knew that he loved Rick. Rick didn’t tell him that he had found Judith a cat. It was an orange tomcat, and they named it Meatball because Judith apparently loved spaghetti. Negan took it as his influence from when she was a baby instead of seeing it as her obsession with canned food like Chef Boyardee. But Negan knew that Rick’s family – and that included not only Michonne, but everyone else that Rick had gathered close to him – was something that Negan wanted. He had killed his best friend Simon, and was betrayed by Dwight, and his other lieutenants had died like Gavin and Regina, and he didn’t even know if Laura and Arat were still alive – but he wanted a family, but the one he wanted was one that he wanted to share with Rick.

So, it should come as no surprise that when Negan finally escaped thanks to that dumbass, the first thing he did was seek out the Whisperers so that he could solve this problem for Rick. He was glad that even though Rick hadn’t unleashed him on the talking dead personally, Rick still accepted his advice on how to deal with things. Even from all the way in his cell, Negan remembered hearing them chant Rick’s name, and pride bloomed in his chest alongside that good, warm feeling of love in his heart. He had smiled and said, “That’s my boy.”

But Rick wasn’t his boy.

At least, not yet.

If this went well, Negan was hoping that maybe he could convince Rick to have him in his house instead of the cell. He would be good and do chores and even do things like gardening and cleaning and cooking or whatever if it meant he didn’t have to go back. To be close to Rick, hell, to be Rick’s little fuck-toy, tied up in his house instead of the cell, would be bliss. Maybe he could convince Rick to have a little threesome, or at least be able to get a few kisses here and there with Michonne’s approval. Anything. Negan would do anything.

Which is why, he was here now.

Getting Alpha alone was easier than expected. She was a passable leader, maybe a little too trusting, but she had muscle bigger than Simon and also way dumber backing her up, so Negan understood. He’d flirted with her, even if her bald head uneasily reminded him of Lucille’s during her cancer treatment, and maybe he’d been hoping for a quick fuck in some pussy since he was a free man, just to get it out of his system before he’d loyally go back to Rick.

Killing, Negan learned, was a talent that didn’t get rusty even if it laid dormant for two years. First, he killed that dumbass kid – well he wasn’t a kid, he was probably Arat’s age or maybe a little younger – for wanting him to betray Rick. That dumbass reminded him of that gutless Spencer guy – that had been a cool murder. Killing the kid, though, was nothing. Isolating Alpha and killing her and cutting off her shiny bald head, now that was a challenge. It was bloodier than Negan thought, and cutting through the bone of her neck had taken more time and strength than Negan expected. But once he got it off and held it up to examine how her lifeless eyes rolled back in the moonlight, Negan was…practically giddy with excitement.

“Wait until Rick gets a load of you,” he crooned low with a smile.

Guided by the light of the moon, he made his way back to Alexandria, back to Rick, carrying Alpha in his backpack and keeping quiet, even though all he wanted to do was sing and whistle like the free bird he was. He could see it now. Rick was going to be so proud of him for solving his little problem. Hell, Rick might even give him a kiss, or let him take a shower instead of a bath, or let him cook his own food because no offense Rick’s cooking was terrible – or maybe he would finally get that sad, eye-contactless hand job he’d been begging for all along.

Negan would’ve like to have made it to Alexandria’s pearly gates by dawn just to be a little dramatic, and maybe as an homage to how much he’s changed since the first time he showed up here on a pick-up day after bashing in the heads of their people. But showing up just a little bit afternoon because he didn’t have a car or a horse, Negan still figured he’d cut quite an impressive, dare he fucking say, heroic figure.

There was only one shithead on guard, and he looked scared to see him. Negan wasn’t sure if he liked that reaction considering how he wanted Rick to trust him and give him a chance. “Open up the fucking gates! I’m here to see Rick Grimes.”

“He’s…he’s…” The guard stuttered and wiped at his eyes. Negan wasn’t expecting that strong of a reaction. “He’s not here.”

“Bullshit he isn’t! Let me the fuck in! I wanna see Rick!”

“Fine!” The guard snapped and opened the gate, and even if it wasn’t the welcome he was expecting (maybe being muscled in and thrown back in the cell for escaping was too harsh of an expectation), Negan didn’t mind much. He walked down Alexandria’s streets, the town…not as busy as it once was. Damn. The Whisperers must have really been a problem taking out this many people with their herd, but hopefully, not anymore. No one was fit to lead them, and if that Beta guy did, well, Negan could handle him, too.

He recognized Rick’s house solely because the front door was pale, daisy yellow. Since he had burned down the houses during the war, they had been rebuilt with cobblestone. Rick’s was largely left untouched – on purpose – but he still had a few cobblestone features from new repairs. Just stuff needed to be done from weathering and time, Negan supposed.

Jogging up the steps to Rick’s front porch, Negan knocked loudly on the door to be polite before barging in anyway. “Honey, I’m home!” he called.

At the top of the stairs appeared Judith. “Daddy?” she called back, and raced down the stairs. It wasn’t until she was standing right in front of him, craning her neck back so she could see Negan’s face that she realized he wasn’t him. “Negan.” Of course, she knew him and remembered him. He saw her at least once a month when she snuck down, or on the few odd occasions that Rick brought her with him. “Where’s my daddy?” It was the broken note in her voice that gave Negan his first sign of trouble.

“I dunno, angel. I was hoping you could tell me that.” He scooped Judith up into his arms when she made her grabby hands at him, and on closer inspection of her face, he saw that she had been crying, her eyes red and swollen, and there were tracks of dried tears and snots on her plump cherub cheeks. “Oh, angel. Look at you.” Negan clucked in sympathy, taking her to the kitchen so he could wet a hand towel and clean up her face a bit. “Who’s supposed to be with you right now, Jude?”

“I am.”

Startling, Negan turned, and there was Michonne in the doorway. Her dreads were cut shorter than he had last seen – a little lopsided, too, as if it had been done in a rush. Her clothes were filthy with mud and dried blood – walker blood, Negan could tell by the dark coloring. But it was her face that really did it for Negan. In all the time he has seen her – and he first saw her _that night_ – he had never seen her look more devasted. Maybe she had been for Carl, but she was strong enough to never show that weakness to him.

“What happened?”

Crossing the kitchen to him fluidly, Negan expected her to just magically pull her katana out of nowhere or maybe snatch up a knife from the chopping block and just kill him right there. But she didn’t. Instead, Michonne just neatly plucked Judith from his arms and went to the kitchen table with her to sit. “Are you hungry, Judy?”

Judith hiccupped and nodded, and Michonne gave Negan a helpless albeit pointed look to help her out. Immediately, his body moved before his brain caught up, and he started rummaging through their cabinets for something they could all eat.

In an odd turn of play, Negan found himself at the kitchen table, sitting across from Michonne and Judith as they munched on sandwiches. Negan was starved and he scarfed his down quick, but he did notice that Michonne focused more on feeding Judith than eating anything for herself. When her belly was full, Judith nodded off on Michonne’s shoulder, and Negan had finished eating. Propping his elbows on the table, he stared Michonne down and asked again. “What the fuck happened?”

“It was the Whisperers,” Michonne started. She stroked a hand through Judith’s blonde curls, rocking her, and Negan couldn’t tell if it was to soothe the girl or herself more as she talked. “They…their herd was on the way to Alexandria. Our walls couldn’t withstand that. Oceanside couldn’t and they’re all gone. R-Rosita…”

His spine stiffened at the name. He remembered her. It’s been a while since he’s seen the feisty, take-no-shit-or-prisoners Latina, but he remembered her clearly from that night. It helped that she also tried to kill him. He couldn’t blame her for that; hell, considering his track record with Sasha and Rick, he sort’ve crushed on her a little for wanting to kill him. It’s cute and flattering.

But now she’s dead. Damn. What a waste. She was a really bad-ass, and he bet she could’ve made a good leader as well. “Damn, Michonne, I’m…sorry about her. Rosita. She was…damn. I didn’t think she would die.”

“She’s gone,” Michonne muttered, and though she was not screaming, it still sounded like a wail. “We needed to stop the herd. We went out there. Me. Rick. Gabriel. Eugene. Aaron. Daryl. Jesus. Tara. Jadis – we had to go out there. We thought we could just redirect it, even with the Whisperers, but we were wrong. They took Gabriel first.”

“Fuck.” Negan liked Gabriel. Gabriel had grown himself some balls – and look what that got him.

“A few others went missing, too. We still think they’re missing. We’re…hoping, that they’re just missing.” Michonne’s slender hand crept up to her hair. “One of them grabbed me. They were going to pull me into the herd so that they could eat me. I killed my horse – they went for that first, and I cut my hair before I chopped off the Whisperer’s arm. I think they’re dead.”

Reaching across the table, Negan offered her his hand. He wasn’t the best with words, but he knew that doing this at least could be comforting. Michonne accepted the gesture, and continued.

“Once we realized what was happening, Rick got a plan. He didn’t tell us – if he had, we would’ve come up with another plan – I would’ve done it, not him, not Rick.” Her throat closed up, and a few tears dripped down her face. Negan watched in what felt like slow-motion as one lonely teardrop fell off her chin on Judith’s head, but she never stirred.

“Rick rode out into the herd to lead them away. He was the only one left who had a horse. Of course, they followed the horse. It was a white one. It’s name was Bunny. Judith picked it.” Michonne pulled her hand away to wipe her tears, but then returned it to Negan’s, and even though it was wet he didn’t care. He was still listening, waiting, not wanting to dare even think –

“We got away and turned back in time to see Bunny fall. Rick was thrown off the horse into this…this concrete rebar…from a dilapidated building. He…he never screamed, but we knew…we knew he was alive when they…when they –”

Finally, she started crying, and she tore her hand away as she buried her face in Judith’s curls and sobbed, clutching her close like a teddy bear. Judith immediately woke up and started crying, too, not understanding, sad because Michonne was sad, but not sad for her father that would never come back because she didn’t know that yet. Negan didn’t think they would ever tell her.

“He’s dead.” Negan stared at the woodgrain of the table top. There were crumbs from his sandwich. “Rick…he’s…I…never got the chance and he’s…” Burying his face in his arms, Negan put his head down and cried, too, at the injustice of it all. He’d been so afraid that Rick would reject him and lock him up again, but that would’ve been worth it if it had meant Rick would be alive.

The three of them cried and it echoed off the walls and rang in their ears and if they were safely inside Alexandria’s gates thanks to Rick Grimes’ sacrifice, that herd would’ve heard them for sure. No one came to the house because they knew why there was crying, and if they couldn’t tell that Negan was crying, too, then that was just as well.

Negan didn’t know how long later he finally looked up, but it was the feel of something wrapping around his ankle that made him jerk in surprise. He nearly punted Meatball across the kitchen before he registered that it was a cat and not a walker trying to get his attention. Once he made eye-contact with him, Meatball jumped on the table and sat in front of him docilely. Michonne’s crying had decreased in intensity and volume to sniffles, and poor Judith had cried herself out and was sleeping again, a little fitfully. Michonne’s shirt was soaked with snot and tears and clung to her skin, but she obviously didn’t care as she rubbed her nose on her opposite shoulder.

“Why did you come?” She asked Negan tiredly.

Suddenly, Negan remembered what he had in his backpack. He lifted it from the floor, and he faintly heard Alpha’s walker mouth moving her jaw around, unable to moan since she had no vocal cords. “Because,” Negan bitterly spat, not angry at Michonne, but just so _hurt_ at it, “I was going to bring Rick this.”

Meatball ran out of the kitchen when Negan thunked Alpha’s bloody head on the tabletop, but Judith remained asleep, thankfully. Michonne just blinked at it and then blinked at Negan before she sniffled again and said, “It’s no diamond ring, but,” her voice trembled and she half-sobbed, half-laughed, “I’m sure Rick would’ve loved it.”

“You fucking think so?”

“Yeah. Meatball brings us voles from the garden all the time.” Michonne looked down into Alpha’s lifeless eyes, and deadpanned, “Rick always appreciated when Meatball got rid of pests for us.”

Negan laughed, and sat back in the rickety, uncomfortable kitchen chair, breathless. Unbidden, a memory came to him of the first movie he saw when he was a kid. He’d been 9, maybe 10-years-old when his dad took him to see _Clash of the Titans_. Negan thought it was the coolest movie in the world, and maybe that was also because he was with his dad, and his dad was the coolest guy in the world. It’s why Negan never got to see him much. He was too busy being cool at his job and at the dive bars and truck stops. After the movie, his dad told him that he was getting a divorce from his mom. After he took Negan back to Mimi’s, Negan never saw his dad again.

Now as he sat here and stared unseeing, he remembered the movie. Perseus had to kill Medusa to kill a sea monster to save a princess that he ended up marrying. Well, Negan had killed Alpha, cut off her head and everything. Went on the quest, and returned from the quest virtually unharmed and alone. He’d been missing the Pegasus to give him a ride at the end, and a mechanical owl named Archimedes or some shit, but he came back to save the town and their princess Rick Grimes – Negan thought he had done it, and he finally, finally learned his lesson and knew that Rick Grimes was right about how to run the world.

But that didn’t matter at all. The sea monster still got the princess in this story.

Later that night when Negan didn’t know what to do, Michonne saved him the trouble. “You can sleep on the couch. There’s no point in putting you back in the cell. R-Rick wouldn’t have done that after what you did.” She carried Judith upstairs for a bath before setting her down in her crib, and though Rick’s couch was definitely ten times better than his paper-thin mattress in his cell or sleeping on twigs and rocks among the Whisperers, Negan couldn’t get comfortable. The house felt cold, cold as a crypt. Negan felt a lot like he did after Lucille died. Sleep would not come for him.

In the middle of the night as Negan lied awake and stared at the ceiling, he heard Judith’s small and shrill cry. Figuring that Michonne deserved the rest, he crept upstairs to check on her. She was standing in her crib – a crib she was too big for now and easily could climb out of, but Negan guessed Rick never got around to changing it – crying. When she saw Negan, she held out her arms and cried, “Daddy!”

Negan’s heart stung. “It’s only me, angel.”

Judith’s face crumpled, and she stamped her foot on her mattress. “I want my daddy!”

Immediately rushing to her, Negan scooped her against his chest and sat down in the rocking chair in the corner. “I know, angel,” he shushed her gently, voice soft despite all the crying, “Me. too.” Cuddling with her to soothe her back to sleep, Negan looked out the window. It had the perfect view of the building that housed his cell while also overlooking what Negan was sure was a picturesque little vegetable garden Rick had grown. The moon was out in full tonight, and Negan remembered how its white light would pour into his cell from the little window, making him feel safer as it kept the shadows at bay.

While Judith wiggled in his grip, Negan gentled tugged out the snarls and tangles in her hair using his fingers and sang to her softly as he could, “Goodnight, my angel. Time to close your eyes, and save these questions for another day… Goodnight, my angel. Now it's time to sleep, and still so many things I want to say… Goodnight, my angel. Now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful your life will be…” And though, Negan was singing so that Judith could finally rest easy, he also knew in his heart that he was saying goodbye to Rick Grimes.

_Someday we'll all be gone,_

_But lullabies go on and on._

_They never die,_

_That's how you and I will be._

**Author's Note:**

> The song I used in the fic is Billy Joel's "Lullaby", which I really, really recommend you listen to after it’s done if you’re a fucking sap like me. But the title is taken from a Maroon 5 song of the same name, just because I like it, and there’s this one poignant part of the lyrics - "So much to love, so much to learn, but I won't be there to teach you. I know I can’t be close, but I try my best to reach you."


End file.
